


Scattered inspiration

by tonberryshortcake



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff, Multi-Classed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonberryshortcake/pseuds/tonberryshortcake
Summary: Challenging myself to write and post at least 500 words daily to exercise my creative muscles, so I'm responding to random prompts with drabbles about my Warrior of Light, Salena Jaya.
Relationships: Hien Rijin/Warrior of Light, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Kudos: 15





	1. All Nighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Pulling an all-nighter" from my SFW Wondrous Tails bingo card
> 
> References events in Shadowbringers. The Warrior of Darkness is still pretty raw about the whole thing.

She hears a distant whisper calling but she is too far away to understand. She struggles to move toward the voice. It’s her name she realizes; someone is reaching out to her. “Salena…” she hears, but she's still so distant.

Thancred nudges her shoulder gently. “Salena, wake up, darling.”

The Warrior of Darkness startles awake and bolts upright, blinking blearily at the man standing over her. “Aw, fuck.”

Thancred snorts and settles into the seat across from her. “Did you spend all night here?”

Salena looks around with unfocused eyes and finds herself in the Cabinet of Curiosity, hunched over what must be a table but is hidden under a pile of tomes. “Yes, I suppose I did. I’ve been doing my own research on the transference of aether and Moren had some interesting recommendations for me. I must’ve fallen asleep reading.”

Hazel eyes give her a discerning look. Her raven hair is a mess of tangles instead of their usual smooth waves; her cobalt eyes are red-rimmed and tired. “Why here?” he starts carefully. “I’m certain Urianger has a guest room in his cottage and would never mind your company. I daresay the Exarch would trip over his own robes for the chance to host the Warrior of Darkness in the Crystal Tower.”

He doesn’t miss the grimace that flashes across her face. “I don’t…” Salena pauses and takes a breath, seeming to chew on her words. “I’m not ready,” she finally offers. “I know I gave my forgiveness and we’re all moving forward in our search for answers, but you know I am not wont to trust easily and—my heart still aches in their company,” she finishes quietly, looking down at the table and avoiding his gaze.

He knows how the betrayal of the Crystal Braves yet needles at her, as do the treacherous beginnings of the Dragonsong War, the machinations of Emet-Selch, but maybe most of all, a plot by her own companions to keep her in the dark about her own fate. Of all the Scions, he probably knows her best; knows that she values honesty like no one he has ever met and yet has suffered as the result of deception time and time again.

Thancred gives a small nod and hums thoughtfully. “Come then, time for some tea and breakfast. Ryne introduced me to this café recently with the most delicious coffee biscuits. My treat for my illustrious Warrior.” He rises from his chair, grinning.

“Well, I suppose I can return later.” She bites her lip and looks around the table. “If I leave these here, do you think Moren will be cross with me?”

“I think he’ll be cross if you continue to treat his library as your private quarters,” he chuckles. Salena smiles wryly and accepts Thancred’s outstretched hand.

“Fine, let us to breakfast then.” She gives his fingers a gentle squeeze. “And thank you.”

“Any time, darling. Any time.”


	2. Saccharine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "saccharine" from @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast
> 
> Not super spoiler-y but references events from 5.2. The Warrior of Light and Darkness just wants a break for heaven's sake.

The heat is stifling and the crowds are clamoring, but walking through the Sapphire Avenue Exchange is proving to be a balm for her weary bones. Salena’s recent homecoming had been violent, having returned from the First only to be immediately ushered into battle. This was expected. The Black Wolf, though, that was unexpected; a surprising new ally as she confronted the Empire’s latest monstrosity. But that’s not where her thoughts are now. Instead she’s basking in the desert’s golden sun as she anonymously walks the market stalls in Ul’dah, languidly browsing everything she encounters, and blissfully indulging in the smaller luxuries of some juicy, fresh fruit and scented soaps for a few extra coin. She dearly missed her small home in the Goblet and is savoring every moment of her brief respite. 

Salena is animatedly discussing the finer differences between Highland and Sunset wheat with the local culinarian when from the corner of her eye she notices a figure down the aisle. Standing tall and proud with flowing silver locks, the Elezen looks startlingly out of place. It takes a moment for the recognition to sink in, but once she realizes who stands before her a grin splits her face. She excuses herself from the culinarian and makes her way over to the man.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ser Dragoon? I did not think to see you again so soon.” 

Her cobalt eyes are sparkling and Estinien’s breath catches for a moment at the genuine warmth in her voice. He clears his throat and manages a reply. “Word has reached me of your exploits in the Cinder Drift. I would scarce believe Ruby Weapon to be dispatched so expediently had it not been your name I heard in the telling.”

She knows it’s meant as praise, Hells the man sought her out to offer it, but the disappointment itches regardless. Salena chides herself for the flicker of hope that he should call on her socially. A ridiculous passing fancy.

It’s only a flash, but Estinien catches it. He sees the joy in her expression dim briefly until it’s replaced by a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. He knows this look; he’s watched her employ it at large parties, in conversations with Ishgardian nobility and diplomats, but he’s never seen it turned on him and something in his chest twists at this realization.

“Oh, yes. I should not be surprised the news would filter through the grapevine so quickly. However—” she nods her head to the surrounding vendors, “—this is not really the venue for this discussion.” 

Estinien glances around at the bustling crowd then back to Salena, looking like he’s seeing her for the first time. He notices her casual attire, a simple flowy tunic, dark trousers, and boots, arms full of shopping bags. “Right.” He furrows his brow. “Perhaps a visit to the Adventurer’s Guild for a drink duly owed to the Warrior of Light.” 

“I—” She considers for a moment, shifting the bags in her arms. “I’m afraid I still have some errands to attend to. However, I plan to be in Mor Dhona in no more than a sennight to check in with the Scions. Mayhap we can meet there. I trust this conversation will keep until then?”

It’s an obvious dismissal, gracious of course as Salena always is, but a dismissal nonetheless. He gives a hum of agreement and a curt nod.

“Right. I best be off then. Until next time,” Salena smiles politely. She strides toward the exit of the marketplace while it gradually dawns on Estinien just how much he had missed her.


	3. Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Domestic habits" from my SFW Wondrous Tails bingo card.
> 
> Continuation from "saccharine." Pretty Elezen boy flusters the Warrior of Light. More at 11.

As soon as Estinien hears the news of the Warrior of Light’s conquest at the Cinder Drift, he’s shocked. It was he who had discovered the weapon, forging unlikely alliances and risking life and limb on a reconnaissance mission he never wanted to accept in the first place, escaping from the castrum by the skin of his teeth. Then Salena returns from Gods-know-where, marches straight into battle, demolishes the damned thing, and emerges a victor. She’s nothing if not efficient, he muses, well-practiced after being thrust before a never-ending stream of primals and wyrms and Imperials and magitek monstrosities. It never ends for her, does it.

A strange feeling rises in his chest and something compels him to seek her out. To congratulate her on her victory surely, no other reason. Inquiring after her whereabouts, he learns from Krile, who gives him a knowing smile – that bloody lalafell is a menace, what does she think she knows anyway – that Salena has gone home to take a few days’ rest. He never considered where she might live when not at the Rising Stones or Fortemps Manor.

He knows naught of Ul’dah except that apparently Salena calls it home. The sun is blistering, and the mingled smells assault his senses, but here he is anyway with some nebulous desire to see her that he tries not to dwell on too much. He’s walking the aisles in the marketplace trying to track down the Warrior of Light without appearing to have sinister motives when he see her. Her hair is down, is the first thing he notices, and he’s staring at her like an idiot studying the raven locks tumbling over her shoulders when she catches sight of him. And then the most curious thing happens. She smiles.

It’s been so long since he was truly with her. He had forgotten how brightly she can glow with joy and right now it’s aimed at him and his heart skips a beat. He hardly knows what stumbles out of his mouth when she greets him and is just glad he didn’t start waxing some poetic nonsense about her hair. But then her glow dims and he thinks maybe it would have been better if he had. They part ways, agreeing to speak again in a few days’ time when she returns to the Scions’ headquarters in Mor Dhona.

Which is all fine he supposes but the crestfallen look on her face needles at him the rest of the day. It never ends for her. She came home to rest and he followed her to have a chat about battle. He didn’t even say hello. Being in her company used to be so simple, he thinks. At a loss for what to do now that he’s traveled all this way, Estinien visits the Quicksand for a drink, then a second drink, and then a third. Then he surprises himself by renting a room at the inn, resolving to speak to Salena again the next day.

He sets out early the following morning in a vain attempt to avoid the overwhelmingly warm and dry desert air. The Goblet is nicer than he imagined; the heat is still sweltering but the oasis pools are fresh and clear, and the wind carries a pleasant scent of wildflowers. An attendant points him toward what he hopes is the right direction so perhaps he won’t feel as lost and aimless as the day before.

Walking up the steps, two large gnarled oak trees are the first thing to greet his eye. Taking the path of steppingstones across the grass he also sees a bench aside a lush vegetable patch, a scarecrow standing tall in the center. For a moment he questions if the attendant didn’t lead him astray. It’s all so—quaint and idyllic. He peers around the side of the cottage and there’s Kali, Salena’s midnight blue chocobo, happily devouring a basket of roots and greens in a stable on the far wall behind a line of scorched and splintered training dummies. Yes, this is the right place.

He raises his knuckles to the door and hesitates. He chides himself for being nervous. He’s simply calling on a friend. Friend. He chews on the word for a moment then takes a breath and firmly raps on the door. There’s a quiet clatter and some shuffling, but he’s not waiting long before the door opens.

“I—what in the bloody Hells is on your face, woman?” What is wrong with him. He could kick himself.

“Hm?” Salena runs a finger across her cheek and examines it. “Oh! It’s flour,” she chuckles. At Estinien’s bewildered look, she continues. “You know, flour? For baking?” Still nothing. “For food? To eat?”

Why can’t he think of something to say. She looks amused at least. Salena shrugs and exits the threshold, leaving space for him to enter. Estinien takes a cautious step in and closes the door behind him with a click. Looking around he feels incredibly off-kilter. He sees the familiar – her mage’s staff and dragoon’s lance resting against the wall – and then the unfamiliar – bundles of herbs hanging with pots and ladles, a basket of fabric and thread resting on a table by a plush sofa, and a spread of rolls and cookies on the kitchen table.

This woman, the renowned Warrior, Salena Jaya, eikon-slayer and liberator of nations, who draws the aether from the very air to rain torrents of fire on her enemies, is baking. It’s so domestic his head is spinning.

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times and realizes he must be gaping like a fish out of water. Luckily Salena saves him by speaking first. “If you haven’t had breakfast yet, I’ve a spinach quiche that should be ready in just a moment and there’s coffee in the pot.” She nods her head toward the stove.

“I haven’t eaten yet actually, so thank you.” Glad he's finally emerging from his stupor, he takes a mug from the shelf and pours himself a cup. Everything smells divine. “I just—I’ve never seen you cook. I didn’t know you enjoyed the kitchen.”

“I can’t very well be baking cakes while trekking across the Dravanian hinterlands now, can I?” she chuckles to herself. “I spent some time in Limsa and happened upon the culinarian’s guild. I quite enjoy a variety of different crafts but unfortunately don’t usually have much time to partake.” Estinien gives a thoughtful hum and they fall into a companionable silence. There are so many gaps in his knowledge of her he realizes, and he desperately wants to fix that.

Salena is pulling the quiche from the oven when she speaks again. “May I ask what brings you here this morning? Not that I’m not pleased to see you,” she adds quickly, “but I didn’t think to see you again so soon. Again.” He thinks he sees the tips of her ears turn pink. “In fact, if I had known you’d intended to stay in Ul’dah, I would have invited you to spend the night.” A full blush is now rising in her cheeks. “I have a guest room, I mean. Not that you would have known, you know, but for next time,” she stammers awkwardly. Salena’s eyes dart away and she goes back to fussing in the kitchen.

The memory of a particular night on their travels flashes through his mind, of the bedroll in his tent, of the rocky ground digging into his back, of desperately wandering hands and mouths. He shakes the thought from his head and sits down at the kitchen table.

“I actually came to apologize,” he starts, thankful that she seems to be as nervous as he does.

“Oh?”

“You’ve come for a moment’s peace and I came to pester you. I barely greeted you. I should have asked after your well-being at the very least, and for that I am sorry.”

“Please. It’s not often someone comes to call on me. I truly am gladdened for your company." Salena smiles sadly. "You tend to disappear and, at risk of being trite—I miss you."

Estinien stands from his seat and slowly walks over to her. He hesitates for a moment but resolves not to waste this chance. He lifts his hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her jaw. “I should like to do something about that if you’ll allow. I’d very much like to see more of you,” he rasps gently.

Salena looks up at him with bright eyes. “Yes, I think I’d like that too.”


	4. Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "This was a mistake" from @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast
> 
> Oof. Took me a bit to come up with this one. Spiritual successor to the last two prompts but not necessarily connected. Sometimes armor makes no sense.

The Scions’ lalafellin administrator is bouncing on her toes the moment Salena enters the Rising Stones, and she can’t help the spread of warmth she feels in her chest at receiving such a genuine welcome. She only manages to greet a couple of her cohorts though before Tataru grabs Salena’s hand and pulls her to the bar.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you, my dear!” she starts eagerly. “Now I promise we’re going to eat – F’lhaminn has prepared a very nice lunch for us and everything – but first things first.” The petite woman goes behind the bar and re-emerges with a less-than-petite white box. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t celebrate your return with a new outfit,” she explains, her smile wide and big brown eyes brimming with anticipation. 

Salena gratefully accepts the package, knowing how her dear friend shows her love (with gifts of clothing specifically) and pulls the ribbon to open it.

“Oh, thank you, Tataru, it’s a lovely—” She pauses and runs her hand over the garment with a slightly confused yet polite smile. The thing seems to be made entirely of pink ruffles. “—dress? I’m not sure I have occasion to wear something so elegant. Unless you’ve promised my attendance somewhere without telling me?” Salena playfully asks, arching a perfectly sculpted brow.

“Of course not, my friend!” she squeals, pointing to the box. “It’s armor! Just look at the reinforced leather here on the bodice!” Tartaru beams with unbridled excitement as Salena holds the dress—armor?—up and examines it carefully. The sleeves appear to be loose fitting white fabric, covering mostly the elbow, but sure enough beneath the black collar are fuchsia ruffles over the chest. And as her eyes travel down the skirt, she is met with several more layers of ruffles in the same bright fuchsia.

But, Salena must concede, Tataru is right: the bodice is more akin to armor and made with a sturdy black leather, with a pauldron on the left shoulder to match.

If Tataru notices Salena’s dubious expression she doesn’t remark on it, simply ushers her down the hall into her bedroom, insisting she try on her new attire. 

A couple minutes pass and she impatiently raps on the door. “Well, how is it?” 

Salena gives herself a once over in the mirror before answering. It’s beautiful but she’s still skeptical as to its suitability for combat. “Are you sure, love?” she calls back.

“Yes, yes! Now come back out here so we can see you in the light! And bring your lance!” she hears over the sound of small feet scurrying away down the stone tiles of the hall.

Reluctantly doing as she’s told, the Warrior of Light reappears at the bar where she draws her weapon and readies a battle stance. Practicing a couple thrusts and strikes, it’s hard to deny the range of movement the asymmetrical hemline of the skirt affords, and she nods approvingly.

“Oh, I love it, Salena!” Tataru looks around happily as others chime in with their agreement. “It’s the latest in Ishgardian fashion or so I’m told. ‘Neo-Ishgardian’ is what it’s called, I believe. Isn’t that right, Estinien?”

Salena nearly chokes when she hears the name and her eyes dart to the man Tataru is speaking to. She finds Estinien (who she swears was definitely not there just a moment before) seated at the bar, gripping a glass with more force than necessary, a pink flush on his cheeks. She can almost feel his eyes drag up her body, stopping briefly at her legs to admire the creamy expanse of skin on display. Though a bit embarrassed, she can’t help but be glad again for the uneven hemline. When he finally meets her gaze, he shuts his mouth with a snap, his blush intensifying. He runs a hand down his face and mumbles inarticulate excuses with a promise to return later before making a hasty exit.

Salena bites her lip and suppresses a giggle. “Oh, this was a mistake.”

“Not at all, my dear, not at all,” Tartaru returns with a conspiratorial wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually love the Neo-Ishgardian armor tbh and you can pry it from my (poorly protected but very attractive) cold dead hands <3


	5. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "tomorrow" from @gatheredfates
> 
> Takes place at some indeterminate point mid-Stormblood that I may have just made up. I imagine my headcanon will come together a little more once 5.3 drops and I can start New Game+ from the beginning. 
> 
> Things get a touch spicy here so I've upped the rating on this collection. First time writing romance so hopefully I did alright! <3

She lets out a long meditative breath. Combat lies in wait for her when the dawn breaks, but that’s for tomorrow. For now, as she lays in the grass mapping the constellations, listening to the distant sounds of the late-night revelry at camp, she feels at peace. Calm before the storm, perhaps. She takes in another deep breath and continues to drift amid the currents of aether swirling around her.

She’s not sure how long she’s been resting when Salena hears the padding of footsteps approaching her, even as they’re muted by the grass. She would rise from where she lays but she knows those footsteps and smiles to herself as their owner carefully sits beside her. She feels the warmth radiating from his body and breathes in his scent. He smells like earth and storms and strength, and she feels a little less at peace but finds she doesn’t mind.

“Ah, so this is where you slipped away to, my friend,” Hien says, looking up at the stars by her side. “I must admit I am surprised; I would have thought you to spend the evening with the rest of your companions.”

She gives a thoughtful hum.

“May I ask what’s on your mind?”

She exhales softly before answering. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “You know, I’d never been to the Far East before this journey. Looking out over Yanxia the first time took my breath away,” she muses. “The hills, the waters. Even now, looking up at the night sky, I can see every star shine in the darkness and it almost feels like home.”

“The sky?” he asks amused. “Are you always this sentimental on the eve of battle?”

“Perhaps.” She pauses for a beat. “It’s either that or the sake,” she smirks.

Hien gives a surprised laugh as Salena pushes off the ground to sit upright. “The Warrior of Light, drunk. Who would have guessed.”

“No, not drunk,” she smirks again. “At peace.” She brushes her shoulder against his and turns her head to look at him, surprised to find he’s watching her. His eyes are running over her face, studying her every feature, bright with affection. She hesitates at first, but perhaps boldened by the alcohol in her veins or the heat in his expression, she places her smaller hand atop his. “I’m very glad you came to find me.” 

He studies her a moment longer and smiles. “As am I, my friend,” he rasps lowly.

She isn’t sure who moves first, but then his mouth is on hers, tentative and searching. Salena’s eyes flutter shut as he floods her senses. His lips are chapped but soft, his calloused hands rough against the smooth skin under her jaw. At the first swipe of her tongue Hien gives a low growl, sliding his hand up the nape of her neck, slanting his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss. It’s like a jolt of levin to her core and Salena climbs into his lap, hitching up her coat to shift her leg over his and straddle his hips.

Strong hands run up her back, along her sides, trailing fire in their wake. She scrapes her fingernails across his shoulders, starting a path under the sleeves of his robe. He pulls back for a moment. “Are you sure?” His eyes are half-lidded, his breathing ragged. “We face so much uncertainty; we do not know yet what fate awaits us come morning.” Hien strokes his thumbs against her ribs brushing just below her breasts, and she shudders at the sensation.

“That’s for tomorrow,” Salena sighs into his mouth. “I want to enjoy tonight.” 

His hand tangles in her hair as he pulls her flush against him and grins. “Tonight then.”


End file.
